


The 12 Days of Cas-mas

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blindfolds, Bottom Dean, Canon Universe, Christmas Fluff, Dom/sub Undertones, Forgiveness, Humor, Light Dom/sub, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Praise Kink, Restraints, Romance, Top Castiel, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 04:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9055306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: Castiel isn’t as innocent as he seems to be, and once it’s out in the open between the Hunter and the Angel… it’s open season for feelings, sex, kink and Christmas cheer.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freeagentgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeagentgirl/gifts).



> Seasons Greetings all. Just want to wish you all a very warm Happy Holiday and Merry Christmas. I really wanted to deliver on this one, but I think perhaps my insane Christmas bustle, family, kid’s concerts and baking and illness etc took away from it. Please--let me know what you really think. This was a new dynamic and subject for me, and being pressed for time I hope I delivered. <3 I hope you all have a safe, and warm holiday. Many well wishes to you all in the New Year my lovely shippers.  
> Picture is here... a03 is cutting it off on me: http://i.imgur.com/xNsBTtb.jpg  
> artist credits >>>  
> http://nasyu.deviantart.com/art/Christmas-Lights-275688260  
> http://euclase.deviantart.com/art/Fragile-441312045  
> by euclase http://misha-collins.tumblr.com/…/euclase-a-deancas-birthda…  
> http://adangi.deviantart.com/art/one-wish-340302391
> 
>  
> 
> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

 

 

It’s a snowy evening in December, everyone lazing around the bunker and dozing when Dean catches sight of something he didn’t expect on his way for a beer.  At first, he thinks perhaps he’s mistaken, sometimes you see what isn't really there--but across the screen, Cas is sitting in front of--is definitely porn. There's no denying that. It isn’t the moaning, tits bouncing on a blond woman full of cum that he was expecting either, but instead, two men.

 

Dean swallows roughly and can't seem to look away, his mouth seeming to forget how to close. The bigger man, the broader of the two, is kneeling before the other blindfolded and tied, begging to be fucked. A dripping cock is being held out just before his lips and Dean nearly moans right there in the library, slightly sorry he disturbed Cas without a warning, but enjoying the show all the same. Dean feels bad he interrupted, it isn't like Cas has a laptop he can just make off with like the brothers do. Castiel meets his eyes then, studying him with an unreadable expression. Dean stares, face heating up, before the Angel goes back to watching it like nothing even occurred.  

 

Dean watches his movements, though, curious, wondering if the cock beneath the table is hard, swollen thick with want, but he never does find out.  After another moment, he realizes just what he had imagined and turns crimson before he flees, the beer forgotten. It takes him several minutes to process before he can will his hormones into the corral, so to speak. He leans heavily against the door and sighs. He can't sleep that night, images of Castiel heavy in his mind.  Dean figures he should be lucky Cas never brings it up. Hell, he never says anything at all and it’s surprising, considering all of Cas’ mannerisms. He figures it’s a blessing by the end of the week but what turns from passing images in his head into full blown fantasy is another story.

 

Cas’ grace flutters as he catches the longing in Dean’s soul, post orgasm, unexpectedly sometime later.  It’s just one moment, strong enough that he can’t help the images he gets through the hunter and Cas palms himself, using the images to find a release not long after in a dark part of the dungeon, leaning against the shelves flushed and still unsatisfied.  Castiel makes a plan in his blissed-out haze, cum drying on his hand as he admires it thoughtfully. This Christmas, the only wish he has is Dean, and Castiel is going to claim him in all the ways he can.

 

The question is--how to do it without scaring him off?

 

******

 

Day One is kissing.

 

It’s not romantic like Cas had wanted once before, instead, it’s surprising, catching the hunter off guard and they land against the door with a thud that knocks the wind from Dean’s lungs. They’re kisses that smolder like fire as Cas devours him and Dean is drunk on the taste of the Angel’s mouth. There's so much going on, the heat of it, the swirling of their tongues and the way they fit together. He had hesitated, almost pushed Cas away but the Angel took control and when he deepened it, so did Dean. Cas had suspected Dean liked it rough, but this was so much easier than he anticipated.

 

Dean’s knees go weak, lips a shade of puffy beautiful blush, thoroughly abused as Cas sucks, bites and teases him. The room is spinning, lungs desperate to breathe again. Dean has never been so turned on without the ability to touch another.  His hands are pinned above his head by his wrists during the entire ordeal, helpless to do anything and yet...he loves it, he realizes--he loves it and it’s more thrilling than even beheading vampires. It’s addicting, making him want it more when he strains against the Angel--desperate to kiss again when Cas pulls away.

 

He feels his face, nuzzles against Dean cheek to cheek--kisses him in all the places he can above his neck. He moves on from his lips, starts across his cherry flushed cheeks, rubs them together nose to nose as he inhales the scents that make Dean smell like leather and home. It’s slow and tormentful when Dean finally whines--Cas’ lips across his fluttering eyes, gentle butterflies before lingering on his forehead.  It’s painful, in a good way that Dean can’t describe, gentle and like he deserves it, but making him twist in his usual feeling unworthy way. Castiel doesn’t let him go, however, doesn’t let up and behind each kiss, he gives Dean is a piece of him he’s never been able to share before.

 

Dean is panting, sweating by the time Cas meets his lips for the last time and Dean begs, _begs_ like he needs to be put out of his misery, both aroused and high on something he can’t describe emotionally. Cas just licks his lips when he bids Dean goodnight. Dean has never felt such a thing before as he lay there, staring at the ceiling. His mind is reeling, everything having happened so fast and yet…he finally did it. He finally kissed Castiel and it was perfect, hot and his skin tingles with what else might be in store.

 

Day One was a test. Permission. Dean definitely wants this.

 

~*~

 

Day Two is words, much to Dean’s disappointment.

 

They’re gentle, loving--supportive. Castiel tells him not to object, not to chime in with sarcasm. He tried to play it off like an “I don’t do chick flicks, Cas,” but Castiel stared him down and suddenly he had no choice but to say ‘Fine’ when the heat pooled in his belly and he licked his lips.  Bossy Cas was kinda hot and there's something in those ocean blue eyes that made Dean powerless to stop him. The words, though, are harder to accept than the kisses and Castiel is insistent. It doesn’t matter that Dean thinks it’s stupid that he can swallow and accept his sexuality easier than kind words, but Castiel demanded he hears them. Demands him even now.

 

Dean sits still, poised on the end of the bed, hands twisting inside one another as he allows Castiel the freedom to memorize, compliment and adore. He starts out okay, calm and honestly looking forward to what Castiel has suggested if it ends like yesterday. Half an hour in, though, he’s helpless, mouth tightly zipped and chewing the chapped skin of his lower lip desperately. The room is suddenly so small. It should have been easy, yet he cringes, again--eyes closed and he swallows heavily. He’s nauseated now. His stomach twists in knots, tighter, harsher with every word that falls from Castiel’s perfect lips. He promised, though--for Cas, to behave until he was done until he really couldn’t handle it anymore.

 

“Strong.”

 

Dean has to fight not to shake his head wildly. He isn’t. Lucifer had made sure of that when Cas let himself play host.

 

“Inspiring.”

 

He resists the urge to scoff, he wasn’t anything like that. Sam maybe--but not him.

 

“Valiant.”  

 

Dean almost laughs, eyes welling with an uncomfortable burn as he looks up at the yellowing sections in the ceiling. He sees the cobwebs he should probably dust away soon, trying to distract the feeling rising inside of him.

 

“Intelligent. Every bit as good as Sam.”

 

There’s a weight settling on his chest now, everything feeling strained and crushing. Castiel had to be crazy, he wasn’t like that--at least he didn’t think so. Sam was the brains, he was just the brawn. Cerulean blue eyes appear in front of him now, his head hanging low as he stares at the stain on the floor he never could remove. They break his focus as he dives into those eyes. Dean doesn’t feel well, none of this sitting right and Cas looks like he can see the cracks he feels breaking along his surface.

 

“Beautiful.”

 

A choked sound escapes his throat, one he has no control over and Cas’ hand rests against the scar on his arm, above the cotton of his onyx t-shirt.

 

“You are safe, Dean…it’s okay,”  

 

Castiel cups Dean’s cheek. It’s damp, and he looks at the Angel in shock as Castiel smiles up at him. Dean hadn’t realized he was crying. Cas thumbs away his tears before everything gives way. The hunter cries into his shoulder, not sure what it is exactly that really breaks him--but _it’s okay. Dean trusts Cas._

 

Day Two is about acceptance of himself.

 

~*~

 

Day Three is touch.

 

Dean has only ever had two settings, the hugs he gives the ones he loves before and after the proverbial shit hits the fan, and the touch he gets that tides him over until the next roll in the sack when he’s desperate and lonely. Everything else is just bottled away and hidden in shoulder touches or the grabbing of their arms. Usually, he knows he’s slipped here or there but he never thought Cas noticed. Neither are enough and neither are healthy, he knows that--but it’s hard to change bad habits after someone’s drilled them into like a good little soldier. Tonight, Castiel insists he experiences it the way he deserves to.

 

 _Deserves_.

 

Dean is seriously starting to both love and hate that word as he sits in the middle of the bed crossed legged in front of Castiel, mirroring his posture.

 

It’s simple, or so Cas insists. Just a brush of their fingertips at first, studying one another’s faces as Castiel moves to his wrist, stroking it gently. It’s easy contact, Castiel adding another hand, repeating the action on the other side of him til their fingers are slotted together for a while. Dean’s heart begins to beat faster at that, breath a little quicker. Castiel gives him a reassuring look that makes his insides flutter, both hands sliding up to rest on his forearms. They breathe together, Castiel shifting closer--and after a while, he goes to the scar on his arm, up to the shoulder, then to the neck. Dean softens when Cas’ fingers gently touch the back of his hairline. He decides he likes the feeling of Cas’ hand in his, the way he feels beneath his fingers when he gently returns the affections in small circles on Cas’ arm. He melts, moving towards him slowly and after sometime Dean finds them hugging, leaning into one another with his head on Cas’ shoulder.

 

It isn't as scary as Dean once thought it would be.

 

Dean likes the weight of Cas’ hand as it rubs up and down his back, warm and steady. The feeling of him mumbling into his hairline that he’s okay. They lay together in the bed when Dean is stiff, clothed legs slowly coming together. Cas’ fingers run through his hair, traces his features. In the end, he is the little spoon, breath calm and eyes heavy. The world didn’t end because of it, Castiel didn’t reject him and Dean feels safe.  He sleeps better than he can ever remember and Castiel never leaves him.

 

Day Three is about touch and knowing that not all of them mean that the world is ending if he lets himself feel good for once.

 

~*~

 

Day Four is Trust.

 

It sounds stupid. The other activities they did were uncomfortable…Who thinks this shit up, anyways? How do you justify things like ‘Gratitude games’ and playing some version of ‘Soft eye contact’ staring contests for 5 minutes as trust building. What happened to bonding over a beer or TV shows? Hell, Dean would take _football_ over this.  Dean sighs. He isn’t 7 years old and yet somehow here they are in Dean’s room once again, the same as before, and he’s waiting. It was either this or the ‘Come clean’ suggestion. The hunter swallows. He really isn't sure that would be much better.  He stares at the pictures he has in the corner by the typewriter, distracted by them as he grumbles in his head again about how this is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard of. Dean admires the set up he’s had the entire time they’ve been in the bunker and closes his eyes. His chest is tight. His heart skips despite knowing there is no danger, his breath not as calm as he thought it would be. Dean swallows thickly and huffs.

 

“Just--let go, Dean.”

 

The hunter’s brow furrows, annoyed with himself as Cas once again stays calm, ever patient with him somehow. He takes a deep breath and focuses though, reassured Castiel is there. This is definitely not as easy as Cas made it sound.  

 

_One...Two...Three..._

 

He falls backwards, teetering off his heels and going dead weight. He gasps, his whole body reacting to the feel of it, fighting it. His brain is worried he’ll hit his head and the odd pull on his limbs makes him feel panic.  Castiel is looking down at him when he finally opens his eyes. He’s upside down, but beautiful as he smiles softly and gives a gentle chest rumbling laugh.

 

He kisses Dean and it tingles all the way to his toes when Cas says, “Well done, Dean.”

 

He usually hates praise but somehow he feels lighter at those words and it's good.

 

Day Four is about knowing Cas won’t let him fall, and knowing when to let go.

 

~*~

 

Day Five Dean is ambushed by feelings and chick flicks.

 

Castiel knows today won’t be easy, and he’s been wondering if he should have left it alone. He stares at the empty Impala and frowns. He knows that if he wants to build to something sexual, past sexual and bonding--he has to tell Dean how he feels, and know where Dean’s feelings lay in return. It won’t work if they’re not on the same page, open and fully aware, fully trusting.

 

It takes Castiel longer than he had hoped, but he finally finds what he’s looking for and much to his pleasure, Dean agrees to step out and get some fresh air. It’s a Winter Wonderland as they head for Esbon, Kansas. The drive is quiet, and Cas can't help but be hopeful. He figures this is the hardest bridge to cross for Dean…If they can do this, hopefully the rest is easy.   

 

It’s not as cold as Dean thought as he steps out of the Impala some six or so miles away from home. Cas seems eager as he leads him down a de-iced sidewalk towards a little cafe Dean never seemed to notice before. They’re seated in a back booth, far out of the way when Cas grabs his hands from under the table, both of them smiling when the waitress brings them two huge pieces of warm apple pie. Cas keeps the conversation easy, watching Dean when he slides his piece over, only having had a few bites and the waitress refills their coffee. Dean’s soul is happy, shining and brighter than Cas has seen it in a long time. An easy silence falls between them as Dean nears the last few bites. When Cas looks like he’s off in la-la land,  he rolls his eyes, bumping their knees together.

 

“Spit it out.”  

 

Castiel smiles at that, watching Dean’s tongue lick away the apple filling at the corner of his mouth. It makes his stomach fall. The man in the video who licked semen from his mouth looked much the same way. The Angel flushes beneath his collar.

 

“We need to talk, Dean...”

 

The hunter freezes mid sip, lowering the cup of coffee and Cas watches his eyes change from that of shamrocks to something darker. Cas takes his hand in his, reassuring--carefully eyeing the other patrons before lowering his voice, “I thought it best if you were in good spirits…” Cas studies him, apology written on his face as he watches Dean’s jaw tense and relax. “I have feelings for you, Dean. A lot of feelings that I need to speak of before we continue this, it seemed only fair you should know that…”

 

There's a pregnant pause.

 

“Feelings, huh?” Dean stares at the table top, watching the way Cas’ hand looks where it rests, admiring his fingers and counting the flakes of crust on the plate before he licks his lips, “This where you're gonna tell me you love me and were supposed to share some Rom-com kiss while Backstreet Boys play in the background?”  

 

Castiel doesn’t know why but he clears his throat--such a human habit. He figures he must be picking it up from Sam, who does the same thing when uncomfortable, since witty remarks aren’t always something Cas is good with. He waits, before finding his voice.

 

“And if I did?”

 

Dean doesn’t answer, instead he throws money down on the table and grabs his coat. He leaves Castiel trailing behind him, gathering himself before he stumbles into his trench and after the hunter. Dean stops outside the cafe doors, staring at the gray blue sky and watching his breath waft in the air. The air smells different, the scent something he can’t describe but means Christmas is around the corner.

 

“Dean?”

 

Castiel wonders if this is the moment he had feared, if he should give up now while he’s ahead and prepare to lick his wounds in some corner of the bunker until he could pretend he was okay.  He looks down at the ground, a lump in his throat and an ache somewhere deep inside his grace. The hunter grabs him by surprise a few seconds later, causing him to stumble forwards. It’s rough, but he’s supported by Dean’s arms when he pulls Castiel into him and they kiss till Dean’s nearly turning blue, lungs protesting and Castiel can hear his heart beating against his breast like thunder. They break apart, breath hanging in the winter air. Some people walking past take notice, looking either uncaring or horrified. Dean doesn’t care though, he’s grinning as he leans their foreheads together.

 

“I love you, but pie first? That’s just cheat--” Dean moans, loudly actually-- cut off when Cas tugs his hair as they kiss again. Dean’s full of butterflies, thrilled to feel Castiel take control like that. He never thought he’d be such a bottom, but for Cas, Dean would be anything he wanted.

 

“Next time, perhaps I’ll use burgers.”

 

Dean bursts out laughing and it’s a sound Cas hasn’t heard in a very long time. It's honestly beautiful. Castiel decides that if tomorrow isn’t as successful as today, it’s all been worth the grin on Dean’s face and the tinge of pink on his nose from the cold.

 

~*~

 

Day Six they cross bridges neither of them expected.

 

Castiel lets yesterday sink in. He figures as it does, everything else will begin to weigh on the hunter, will really impact him. He knows how Dean is sometimes, never getting the full picture until he's somewhere safe, back in his room and thinking. Feelings aren't easy for Dean and admitting it out loud…he figures Dean will need to process it all. There hadn't been any resistance yet, any freak out. Castiel had half expected Dean not to even be there when he reached the doors. He was sure he had walked out in a huff, not in a plan to knock him off his feet. It has definitely been a bit romcom as Dean said, but Cas really doesn't mind. He ponders it a bit longer before slipping away.

 

Cas moves to the dungeon and closes himself within it. He likes it here, it’s private and in a way thrilling. He wasn't sure when he had stumbled across a like for BDSM and Master/slave dynamics but he finds it all very alluring and in a way, addicting. There is something beautiful and soft, and yet harsh and rough about it and the combination makes the hairs on his skin stand on end, his spine dance with excitement.  Leaning hard against the wall, Cas brings the video up on his phone. He watches and distracts himself as he falls into the images in his head.  He's hard within moments, loving the idea of Dean’s full lips around his cock. There’s something that makes grace ignite, burn like an inferno at the idea of Dean looking up at him with those vibrant shamrock eyes, those freckles standing out from the flush he would have on his skin. Castiel doesn't hear Dean when he finally finds him. He’s lost in it, back and shoulder blades pressed into the wall as he strokes and chewing his bottom lip desperately in its pleasure.

 

Dean should leave, but he can’t look away. He’s imagined this--wondered what the Angel would look like, blissed out and moaning. Cas’ head tilted back, mouth moving as he tried not to make a sound, to alert anyone. It’s hot, so hot and yet he’s beautiful, handsome in a new way Dean doesn’t have words for as his shirts untucked, open across his chest and stomach and his pants undone just enough to find himself. It’s one of the hottest things Dean has ever seen, and his mouth is dry--cock stirring like the excited wagging tail of a pup excited to see its master. Dean shivers and Castiel opens his eyes to roam over his posture, watching his nostrils flare in quickening breath and his eyes darken with lust. He felt Dean’s presence, knew he was there, but a part of him wanted this, wanted to get caught. Castiel had definitely fallen so far from the image of what he was once, from his teachings and yet he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more than to be intimate with his his hunter.

 

“Do you like what you see, Dean?”

 

Cas is nervous, voice a bit growly but it’s almost a good feeling, a shock, but also a warmth that hums through him. This how it happened in the video, how one got caught and the other wanted it just as much as the first. Castiel gets it now, why sexual things and voyeurism give humans such a thrill. He likes the way Dean’s watching him, the way his body responds to what he’s doing. Humans are such fascinating creatures.

 

“Yes.”

 

It’s steady, the sound of Dean’s voice. It isn’t surprising, sex is something Dean is good at--is always experiencing and yet, despite all the efforts he makes, the movements, Cas is sure that men weren’t forbidden. That somewhere Dean had accepted it and found a few cowboys to ‘rodeo’ with, as Gabriel would put it. Castiel swallows, licks his lips and just gives in despite the nagging in the back of his nature. He is powerful, can snap Dean like a twig but he can also love him and be more gentle than anyone before him ever has been. He can give Dean exactly what it is he wants, even if the rest of him doesn’t always know it yet.  

 

“Come here, Dean.”

 

Dean freezes like a deer in the headlights. It’s now or never. After all, they would have come to this bridge eventually, right? Dean runs his fingers through his hair, breathing deeply before letting the shakiness in his legs pull him forward. Cas’ fingers stroke his chin before they’re captured in a kiss that bruises Dean’s lips, rushing the blood to them as they turn a bright shade of red. Dean watches Castiel tongue trace the back of his teeth before he grabs his hair. Dean gasps, lowering to his knees with one gesture of Cas’ strength. The groan throughout the dungeon is the most wonderful thing Castiel has ever heard as Dean swallows him down greedily. He tells Dean he’s a good boy.

 

Day Six is about crossing lines and erasing them.

 

~*~

 

Day Seven is about boundaries.

 

When Castiel said ‘Let Go’, being attacked by Dean at every turn wasn’t part of the plan. Dean kept coming at him on the hunt when each room was 'clear' whenever Sam wasn't looking. Their encounter in the dungeon had left Dean with cum soaked drawers and Castiel on the verge of leaving his vessel when his grace ignited in release. It had been the most intense thing either had ever experienced with another lover or by themselves and it’s hovering between them every second they pass one another.

 

Dean can’t get it out of his head, buzzing and tormenting him every time he’s left with his mind wandering. The taste of Castiel’s skin, the sweat he licked from his stomach. He had tried so hard to make it good, drag it out for them both. The size of him was so much better than Dean had ever imagined, the taste of his release was intoxicating. The more Cas had groaned, the harder his hands move along his scalp and knotted in his fingers--the more desperate Dean was to please him. No one had ever called him a ‘Good Boy’, not like this--not with such pride and love.  It made him crazy. Dean had a new addiction and he was going to do whatever he had to to get it again.

 

When Castiel finally knocks on his bedroom door later that evening after they’ve returned from the hunt, Dean nearly leaps off the bed like a teenage girl. They only had a few moments during their hunt,  and Dean doesn’t even care how desperate it looks. He’s spent all afternoon cooped up in the car meeting Cas’ heavy domineering gaze in the rearview mirror and adjusting himself to keep Sam from seeing his rock hard desperation.

 

“We need to talk, Dean,” he starts, voice sending shivers along Dean’s spine as the hunter curls his toes, watching Cas’s hips move as he sits in the chair across from the bed. They meet eyes, Dean firmly closing the door. The air feels thin, Dean’s heart is kicking up and Castiel swallows.

 

“We have to talk about today. I am…very pleased that you have accepted our relationship so easily, but Dean, we cannot be all over one another, as Sam would say, whenever we’re alone. I worry that if you cannot control your urges, the habit will affect your hunting and cloud your judgement.”

 

The Angel glances towards the bed and licks his lips. Dean leans into the shut door, shrugging and banging his head against it lightly a few times. _Way to kill the mood..._

 

“You’ve never been in the throes of new love have you, Cas?”

 

Castiel wants to say yes, but it’s foggy, odd circumstances as he walked around locked up in ‘Emmanuel's’ head.  He shakes his head no, and Dean smiles.

 

“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, then…” he winks and Cas’ whole insides do a barrel roll effect.

 

Cas narrows his eyes, “You’re changing the subject.”

 

Dean smiles, the famous Winchester cockiness he’s come to witness over the years that ‘make panties drop’ and straight men wonder why he’s so pretty. Least that’s what Sam had said once in a bar when Dean walked away and Castiel definitely had to agree it wasn’t far from accurate.

 

Dean rolls his eyes and flops down on the end of the bed as he scratches at the back of his neck. “Okay...I’ll bite. What you want to talk about, Cas?”

 

The flash in Castiel’s vision takes him by surprise when he stands and walks over to where Dean is. Dean looks up swallowing when the snap of Castiel’s fingers produces a piece of paper unlike anything Dean has ever seen.

 

“Rules. Boundaries. And safe words,” Dean’s eyes widen, taken by surprise when Castiel looks right into his soul, “I will deliver all it is you want and desire, all you have to do is agree.”

 

Something stirs inside Dean. He’s always been curious, but this is new. It’s never slapped him in the face like this before and he’s both intrigued and petrified, “What kind of boundaries?”

 

“I speak, you listen. I say no or you’re not ready…You must obey.”

 

Dean chews his lip nervously. He nods, he can do that. There’s a pause, “If there is anything I want or don’t want?” His voice is small, shaky, but Castiel gently reaches out to brush a thumb along his temple.

 

“Then we talk and we compromise. We will always talk before we do something…your safe words are there if things are suddenly bad. I will have questions and words that indicate your level of comfort if you wish…” Castiel speaks softly, the hunter finds he leans into his touch. “I will take care of you, Dean. I love you and I want you feel good. I know how much you want this, you’ve thought of it before.”

 

Dean can’t deny that as he fidgets where he sits. He loves topping woman, but Cas...Cas is different, powerful, something stronger than a force of nature. How could you ever stand before that and not want to bow down and ask to be better, made whole and be forgiven. Dean so badly wants to be fixed and feel good, feel like he can be forgiven.

 

“Can we start right now?”

 

His eyes are down, away from Cas’ as he’s being watched and Cas nods. Dean presses his palm to the paper and scrawls his name in grace. It’s gone and when Cas removes his jacket Dean does the only thing he can.

 

He drops to his knees with his head bowed and begs:

 

“Please, _Castiel_ …”

 

Day Seven is about learning to be carried rather than to carry on.

 

~*~

 

Day Eight is about breaking free.

 

Dean is always good at following orders, but giving up complete control to someone other than Sam? It’s never happened and even then, a part of him is always fighting against it regardless because he’s the older one, the one whose job it is to make it all better and protect Sammy.  Dean has always found it easy to follow orders. It’s a task--he listens, he does what he’s told and it’s done with. It’s just sometimes his heart doesn’t listen and it’s always made him a bit wild, unpredictable and dangerous. It was always the reason he was getting into trouble with his Dad. Castiel doesn’t seem to care. He looks at him, analyzing, and with acceptance, ready to withstand any storm Dean tangles them in and ready to do all he can to bring them back to sunny clear skies.

 

“I’m right here,” Cas says gently and there’s a brush of his fingers against Dean’s skin as the Angel begins to tie the blindfold across his eyes. Dean feels cold, there’s an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach as the light is shut out by the silk across his face. The fabric feels worn, and all at once he’s rushed by the scent of Cas from the fabric. It’s his tie, _the tie_ and all at once Dean feels a little better about it.

 

There’s the sound of fabric on skin, something that sounds familiar but he can’t place it. His skin goosebumps as he tracks the sound of Castiel moving behind him.

 

“Kneel, Dean.”

 

He obeys, closing his eyes and settling. He swallows when the fabric his knees connect with feels like the trench coat. He is suddenly so very grateful Cas let him keep his boxers on. Baby steps.  

 

“What’s your safe word?” Castiel is looming, he can still feel those eyes on him all predatory, that presence that's all powerful .

 

“Impala.”  

 

It’s choked, his mouth dry as his heart picks up, out of fear, out of excitement and the stirrings of arousal. Dean is all over the place, a mess.

 

“Good boy, Dean...Now, I’m going to tie your hands behind your back…just like we talked about and then we’ll begin…Are you still okay with that?”

 

Dean nods, shivering suddenly and stiffening when the nylon moves along his skin, fastens around his wrists and Cas makes sure he can’t get out. Not even if he tried. Dean tries to calm his breathing.

 

“You’re safe, Dean,” he says softly, knuckles trailing down his spine affectionately before Cas leans down and nuzzles him, breathing him in deeply. He hums approvingly, Dean having showered before this to calm down, and kisses his neck. When Dean turns to try and kiss at Castiel, Cas turns his head back to facing forward.

 

“Only I touch you, only I kiss you, this is all me and you will listen until I tell you otherwise.”

 

Dean groans, loudly. Cock already stirring between his legs and settles in for a long night. Castiel never gives him another order, he sits waiting--waiting for anything and wonders exactly what the Angel is going to do. Turns out long is an understatement. Castiel tests his strength, his determination and his stamina, his control. Each kiss, each gentle stroke of his flesh drives him insane and he’s tasting copper, trying not to make a sound or wriggle as he’s toyed with. When Cas gets to the end of him, nuzzling his feet and close to his own release--Castiel backs off. The room goes dead silent and he’s left breathing, trying to find his center again and not whine at the loss he feels. Castiel watches, studies and waits for Dean to settle. When he is no longer edging, no longer close to coming, the Angel starts all over again, kissing every freckle, memorizing them and their patterns as he listens to Dean heart give away how he feels, but admires his will to move forward.

 

In the end, legs shaking, body tired and sore after hours on the floor--his arousal doesn’t even matter anymore after Cas kissed, stroked every part of him but his seeping cock. Dean is just exhausted, he can’t stay like this anymore, his muscles are hardening and burning. He’s freezing, seconds away from teeth chatter and falling on his face in sleep. Dean whispers Impala and the ropes release a second later, Cas pulling him upwards as he’s laid on the bed, covers drawn up to cover his sweating cold skin. When Cas removes the blindfold gingerly, he blinks to see Cas staring down at him, the table lamp behind his head dimmed.

 

“Good boy.”

 

Dean whines, a sound he’s surprised to hear as Castiel kisses both eyelids. “Well done...You did great, my love.” He pulls Dean close, and slowly his grace washes over Dean like waves. They’re warm, loving and the pain subsides as he falls into a deep sleep. He feels content, loved and protected. Castiel’s praise makes him happy, blissful even.

 

Day Eight is about being stripped down and Dean riding shotgun.

 

~*~

 

Day Nine is about care. Both himself and Dean.

 

Taking care of himself is probably going to be one of the hardest things Castiel needs to help Dean learn. He’s done his research, he’s posted as ‘HotWings’ in the chat rooms and he’s read every book he could find online that downloaded to his phone like Sam showed him previously. Castiel tries to be there, can sense what Dean wants and needs in some ways but Dean also needs to open up and talk. Castiel wants to replace the negativity in the brother's bond, wants to erase the crutch of alcohol and sex with strangers who never ask why. He wants Dean to slowly talk rather than bury himself. He wants Dean to need him, to not hesitate and accept he'll do almost anything to help him.  He knows if he wants Dean to care for his needs, he must also have Dean learn his own. He knows he’ll have to start small, build on this all as they fall between the sheets, fasten the chains and discover which aspects they like and don’t…but for now he’ll start small.

 

Washing away dirt and sin is one of the oldest teachings Castiel can remember. It’s a sign of purity and an honor.

 

“Cas?” Dean finds him standing in the shower surveying the room and thinking.

 

“Can I do something and have you co-operate?”

 

Dean looks at him curiously, dressed only in his slacks and white shirt, but he trusts Cas and maybe since they’re in this room, it means something fun. They’ve had a long day of research, and fun is so something Dean wants right now.

 

“Yes…Impala is the safe word. I am more than okay, Cas.”

 

Castiel smiles, the switch for Dean is so quick and passing the other mentions. He turns and kisses Dean passionately, pressing into him and embracing him close. Dean mimics him, gentle, loving and needy. They break apart, foreheads touching, just like they had outside the cafe.

 

“I'd like to care for you,” Castiel murmurs, “To help you learn to take care of yourself more.”

 

Dean smiles, sliding a hand to Castiel’s hip and pulling him closer, “Take care of me how, hmm?”

 

He’s all charm and Castiel rolls his eyes and takes Dean’s hands in his own. They meet eyes intensely and Dean finds himself hoping, bursting with excitement. Castiel meets his curious gaze, can practically hear the buzzing in his head.

 

“Let me lead and you can safe word if...it’s too much.”  His thumb strokes the hunter’s knuckles and Dean flutters inside. He nods, and Castiel leans in slowly to kiss him. He captures Dean, mouths locked together as he begins fumbling with the hunters clothing. They break apart as he pulls Dean’s shirt up, the hunter gasping at the graze of his knuckles against his stomach and chest. The Angel’s eyes narrow, studying him before he lets his hands rest on Dean’s belt, hovering above Dean’s mouth teasingly, breathing his air even though he doesn't need to.

 

Dean closes his eyes as everything pools at his ankles, Cas leading him to step away out of it and into him. Dean has always been beautiful but as Cas kneels to removes his socks, he can’t help but nuzzle the inside of his ankle as he memorizes the shape of his calf muscle beneath his palm. Dean blushes, Castiel’s hands winding around the trunk of his legs and admiring the fine layer of soft blond hair. He pauses, looking up to meet Dean’s nervous gaze, allowing himself to take in the sight of Dean’s manhood--still soft, the shape of him and the hair around it before deliberately placing a kiss in the dip of his hip bone. He thumbs them over, admiring them and the look of his core muscles, both soft, yet with some definition of strength.

 

Dean stirs, Cas standing now as he drags his hands up over the soft curved skin between Dean’s stomach and his ribs, thumbing over the ridged flesh as his chest cavity expanded and released. Sliding up to the hunter’s shoulders Cas nuzzles Dean’s neck and kisses at the line of his collar bone sweetly. He feels the surge of grace around him when the shower erupts, steam beginning to rise as Castiel tugs them under it, the Angel’s bronzed skin revealed. He’s beautiful, especially covered in droplets of water and Dean kisses at them gently, moved by how he looks, how they feel this close together.

 

Dean’s never had his hair washed by someone else, it’s relaxing--Cas’ fingers have a rhythm as he massages them. He slumps against Cas awkwardly, to his surprise unaroused and relaxed. Castiel works his way down, every inch of him washed and loved by the Angel’s soft touch, watching the soap suds swirl down the drain. Castiel ignites and Dean feels tears when the grace ripples through him. Castiel made the sign of the cross on his forehead, against his lips before a small chaste kiss and than above his heart. When he’s done, Dean could swear they’re dancing underneath the water, his head on Cas’ shoulder. They’re rocking, comforting him when he realizes and he holds onto Castiel harder than before.

 

“You are forgiven, Dean…”

 

He can hardly remember leaving the shower, honestly, lighter but amused because grace is so convenient and wonderful. He’s somehow dressed in his robe as they retreat into Dean’s room, trailing behind Castiel as he holds his hand. Dean falls backwards into the bed, dozy, warm when Cas drops him like a ton of bricks.

 

He feels free.

 

The bed sinks, and Castiel sits atop of him, straddling him at his pelvis. His own robe, one Dean kinda likes, all soft and royal blue slides down to reveal water beads still on his skin. The younger male looks up to eye his Dom, licking his lips as he slides his hands to rest on Castiel’s hips. It’s a shame, he decides, that they're always covered with clothing. Even the shape of his legs are wonderful, powerful and strong. Cas is a babe. Dean smiles.

 

“What are you thinking now?” Castiel tilts his head and studies him before leaning down and nipping at Dean’s neck. He gasps, when Cas teasingly takes in Dean’s earlobe and sucks deeply. It causes Dean to jerk upwards and grind into him.

 

“What about making out, heavy petting with cuddles during Star Wars after we eat burgers?”

 

The hunter shivers as Cas whispers into his ear and Dean bursts out laughing at the same time arousal swirls in his stomach.

 

“A man after my own heart.”

 

Castiel smiles and kisses Dean into the mattress. “I just want to take care of it, of you.” Dean nuzzles against Cas’ face and threads his fingers through Cas’ hair. It takes him by surprise as Dean kisses his temple.

 

“Only if I can return the favor...” Castiel groans and kisses Dean again, hands sliding to grasp the swelling flesh between Dean’s thighs.

 

Day Nine is about caring for one another.

 

~*~

 

Day Ten is all about research.

 

Dean’s phone is already dead, Cas’ is fully charged as they bring up another video, another category and add it to the list. Green for yes, Orange for maybe and Red for I’m not sure but maybe when we run out of things to do later. Turns out Castiel could green light almost anything, much to Dean’s surprise, and this whole thing has only lead to three mutual hand jobs now and one where Dean came twice because Cas decided to lap his cream like a fucking kitten. He’s decided Castiel is getting Cat ears and the fucking bell he thinks he should have had ages ago.

 

“Cosplay,” Castiel says suddenly, which has absolutely nothing to do with the video Dean is currently watching of some metal rod being inserted into a man who’s hanging by some ribbon looking apparatus while another man is licking his asshole like he lost his favorite dessert inside.

 

“What?” Dean shakes his head and cringes. He’s really not sure if this is hot or disturbing.

 

“Cosplay…we could still keep our dynamics, just, dress up as someone the other might like.”

 

Dean rolls his eyes, “Sounds very Comic Con.”

 

Cas licks his lips, curious about the sounding rod disappearing into the man onscreen as his grace stirs. He definitely wonders if Dean will ever be in a place to top him like that.

 

“I could be Batman.” Dean stiffens. Castiel hides his smirk and continues, “It said on the website you can buy the accessories, too…Cat Woman’s whip was listed.”

 

“Do it.” Castiel looks up and Dean looks…feral. The Angel swallows and his cock stirs as Dean climbs ontop of him. “Say it, nice and low…” It takes a moment before realization dawns on Cas, his phone discarded somewhere on the bed. Dean is kissing his neck like a crazed animal.

 

“I’m Batman.”

 

Castiel begins to wonder what Dean would look like in a Robin mask, sucking his cock, as it’s quickly becoming his new favorite addiction. Dean’s lips are just the perfect shade of red.

 

Day Ten is discovering all the possibilities that lay ahead on a sexual horizon.

 

~*~

 

Day Eleven is where pain and pleasure meet and Castiel has to deliver.

 

They talk, twice in fact. Rules, restrictions, though there aren’t many and reassurance. Cas talks, Dean responds only when he should. Wrong answers get him whipped, right answers get him pleasure--the catch, though, is if he can’t respond and be believable, it’s a wrong answer.

 

Cas paces, Dean’s kneeling, head bowed, breathing. He’s tracking his movements, Cas can tell by his heart, by the subtle twitch in his jaw or flare in his nostrils.  He cracks the whip on the floor, the room echoing the sound in a burst. Dean doesn’t flinch, he’s impressed. When they started this, the sound made Dean jump just mere hours before. The red on his skin shows he wasn’t focused, the other marks indicate where he couldn’t believe he was worthy of things, or being nice to himself.  The blood swollen, fat and thick in the flesh between his legs that’s dripping onto the floor, is where Cas sucked kisses and praise into his skin.

 

“Are you worthy of being loved?”

 

Dean’s jaw tightens, hesitation readable on his face, despite his blindfold and the angle in which he sits with his hands tied behind his back. Castiel watches, waits. He’s learning.

 

“I don’t believe I am...but with you, I think that yes--maybe I am.” Cas raises the whip and stops. Dean braces himself, the whip comes down in the middle of his back--but his hiss--the hiss is swallowed by Cas’ mouth on his.  

 

“Good boy,” Cas pants, running his hand through Dean’s hair, “Good boy, Dean.”

 

Dean bites his lip hard enough to taste blood as Castiel nuzzles him. He squeezes his thighs together, trying to ignore the feeling of Cas’ warmth against him, their bodies beginning to touch and rub as Castiel praises him. He can’t stop the whine that comes from within him, he’s so close. Castiel purrs in his ear, and within a few coaxes of his soft hands, Dean climaxes, long strands of thick white painting the front of Cas’ belly and pants. Dean falls into his shoulder, shaking, as Cas sets him free.

 

Day Eleven proves he can do this, and that Castiel can give Dean exactly what he wants.

 

~*~

 

Day Twelve is all about reaping rewards.

 

Silence. Everything is still, nothing but the sound of his heart beating, heavy, loud in his ears, deafening--and the sound of his breath beginning to grow in anticipation. His lungs feel like they already want to burst, struggling against the slow rise of adrenaline that such an act gives him.

 

The room is cooler than normal, everything dark--hidden by the heavy feeling of blue silk against his face, across his eyes as he waits. The heavy scent of Cas wafts from the tie with every breath in, comforting and thrilling. His skin prickles in goosebumps, hair standing on end. He can feel it. Somewhere in the room, despite not needing to breathe, cerulean ocean blue eyes, deep and dark, are watching. The hunter swallows nervously, and the heat pools in his stomach, down to its deepest core and he flushes in a warmth he has no control over.

 

Dean can’t help but squirm, being hunted like this--vulnerable in the best way imaginable. His mouth is dry, moisture stolen by the thought of what might happen. His heart skips a beat, blood roaring through his veins like a river as his cock twitches, begins to swell as it’s trapped between his thighs. Kneeling isn’t as hard as it once was. Not here, centered against dark blue silk sheets, both cold and warm when he shifts against his skin. They’re soft, gentle and yet if he moved too fast, if Cas got too rough, it would leave a rash, burn his skin in a hiss of pain. He shivers at the thought, the restraints on his wrists biting his flesh as it digs into the swell of his lower back. It’s his only comfort in all the hours he has been waiting patiently like the sub he knows he is.

 

It’s hard not to moan, senses heightened now as the thrill dances along his spine at the pain--as the hunter inside of him rises up. He’s determined to once again meet the fate asked of his lover, be it wrath, forgiveness, or passion. Either way his cock is full, heavy between his legs now as it pulses with want, a need.

 

“I am the one who raised you from perdition…”

 

Shamrock eyes, despite being covered, roll into his skull, head falling backwards--exposing his neck with a soft low moan.

 

“I pieced you--all of you, back together…atom by atom, piece by piece like the most beautiful puzzle ever created...”

 

Cas is silent, not a sound when he moves--but his finger lifts Dean’s chin higher, the man watching Dean’s adam's apple move when he swallows--admiring the way each individual hair stands at attention, like all of him knows who to bow to, who the one in charge is. Dean whines when Cas licks the dryness away from his lips, teasing and not allowing their mouths to meet like the hunter so desperately wants them to.

 

“You should show me some respect, Dean...I do believe we had--” Cas’ tongue clicks, grazing along the back of his teeth, “ _Rules._ ”

 

Dean gasps, a burn and a tingling at his scalp when his neck is pulled backwards just that last bit more by the jerk of Cas’ fingers curled in his hair.  

 

“Sorry…”

 

“Oh...” Cas drawls in a growl, swallowing down his hunger as he gazes upon every freckle, every pore as it begins to sweat, each pulse of his veins as the sound of his quickened heart fills the room, “You will be.”

 

It takes everything Dean has not to yelp out a long, moaned _‘Yes, please’_ before Cas nuzzles his nose along the crevice of his neck, breathing in his scent like some beast before it devours its kill. He swears the Angel growls, like a feral rumble of thunder deep inside his chest before harshly releasing him.

 

“Spread your legs.”  

 

Dean obeys, momentarily trembling from the hours he is positive Cas left him waiting--thinking, clearing his mind and just watching him. He chokes down a hiss, pins and needles shooting through his lower limbs and feet before Cas’ hand cups his ass smoothly. He gestures Dean to sit higher, fingers barely teasing his crack as he moves his hips to do as he’s told.

 

“Good boy,” the Seraph breathes, heavy and hot against the back of Dean’s neck as he drags three wide spread fingers down across the curve of his spine, a chill sweeping through him.

 

The next moment seems take an eternity, unable to breathe--once again wishing for Cas’ touch as cum pearls on the head of his cock. He jumps, gasps when a single finger slides into his hole without warning, slick and cold. Cas leaves no room for adjustment before his teeth sink heavy, harshly into Dean’s shoulder, the hunter biting down on his lip hard enough that he can taste copper as the pain blossoms under his skin, sure to bruise a dark ugly color.

 

Just as Cas kisses it, Dean moans when his fingers move and the assault of kisses, met with the harsh feeling of teeth in his flesh, begin. The alternating pattern begins to build inside of him, pleasurable at each kiss and dropping off when the bone digs in. He nearly sobs, nearly every inch of his back abused, before Cas growls and leaves the last one buried in his right ass cheek. Dean breaks, calls out in a groan and a yelp as he sucks on it before letting go--meanwhile sliding in another finger, and Cas practically purrs at the sight of Dean’s head forward, breath unsteady--panting, his cock swelling in shades of angry, desperate cherry red.

 

“Beautiful Dean…so beautiful...”

 

Dean nearly sobs, the sound rising up against his will as Cas’ hand grazes his hip, another finger burning as he’s stretched open. It’s a full feeling, one Dean rocks into greedily. Cas filling him with magic fingers that graze every nerve--push all the right buttons.

 

“Please…”

 

“Please, what?”

 

Dean gasps, another finger--everything thrust up, nearly knocking him off balance, clenching around the heat of the intrusion, his cock oozing--flushed in a pain that bursts pleasure like fireworks all over his vision.

 

“Fuck me.”  

 

Cas growls, a sting of an open palm to his skin and Dean cries out. “Manners, Dean.”

 

Dean cries out, pulling forward to escape the sting--head swimming, dizzy in his desire, “Please…fuck me, ugh!” He raises his hips, tugging on the restraints, desperate to be touched--to find release.

 

“Pray.”

 

Cas leans forward, voice lower than ever as he licks the edge of Dean’s ear. It catches him off guard, eyes wide under the blindfold, eye lashes making a sound against the fabric. He’s hesitant, and once again Cas grabs his hair harshly, “I said _pray_ , Dean...”

 

His teeth graze Dean’s shoulder, his body looming behind him. Dean chokes on his words, deciding, then to close his eyes. Cas’ hand shadows the scar on his arm when he begins.

 

_Cas…_

 

Dean swallows, nervous as Castiel begins to kiss at his skin. His lips are soft, cold to his abused flesh, making him feel high.

 

_…I need you, please…._

 

Cas’ hand squeezes his bicep, hand once again where it once was, licking slowly, alternating with the soft tease of teeth, tasting him.

 

_Please…I want release, want to feel you inside of me, Angel…._

 

Purring, he’s purring in Dean’s ear as Cas sucks at his flesh, the tip of his cock pressing into Dean’s back, a damp spot of cum in a swipe against his overheated skin.

 

_Fill me…oh God, make me yours…_

 

Castiel groans, hot and low--slicked and ready. It breaks everything inside of the hunter, he’s finished. He needs to be put out of his misery.

 

_I can’t take it anymore…Castiel!_

 

The first thrust in makes the universe explode behind Dean’s eyes. He calls out, Castiel groaning--the sound rumbling like the world shakes.  Dean’s face is pressed against the mattress, back curved and arching outward for his master. He’s needy when he tries to push back, get all he can from the fill of the Angel’s thick, slicked member. He wants the burn, wants the fill he’s been waiting for since Day one. It’s slow, though, dragged out intentionally to drive him mad. Castiel wants to memorize this, feel every second to the fullest as his hardened flesh teases the man’s greedy hole, knowing that Dean wants nothing more than to be full of seed--feel it slick his thighs as he calls out for the only one that matters. Only Castiel can do this, drag him to the brink, shatter him…then do it all over again and still leave him wanting him more.

 

Cas watches each movement in his muscles, shoulders back and feeling powerful as the man below him gasps into the sheets. Beads of sweat roll down Dean’s neck when they move, leaving trails across his skin that glisten in the low light. Leaning over, he tongues it away, nipping at his neck and savoring the taste--every part of him snapping into the tight heat harshly and dizzying the world around them. He never thought it would feel like this, feel this good to be surrounded by the clenching walls, his dick vise gripped--feeling closer and closer to Dean with every brush against his prostate. It’s so hot, so warm and deep. Each sound growing the urge in his grace, making him wanna pump harder in the next moment than he did the last.

 

The hunter whines at the loss each time, begs for more as Cas reddens his hole--the skin a beautiful shade of pink as the tip barely stays inserted, each thrust dragging out another beautiful sound from the man below him. Castiel is growling.  It feels like something is finally falling into place as they move together, connected, both broken and healing at the same time and perfect. Castiel once thought the birth of stars, of new life and worlds were the most beautiful things in existence--but it’s not. It’s here. It’s hotter than the heat of those stars, it feels better than new life--consuming and like this, together, one flesh, one love. Dean is the most beautiful thing in all of creation, especially like this, with his name falling from his abused lips like perfect prayers.

 

Falling forward, they form the Beast and Castiel keeps pumping, harder than before and as Dean sobs, Cas takes him in his hand and strokes. They’re both trembling, skin sliding together and lips desperately trying to connect in the awkward angle over Dean’s shoulder, hardly brushing as Dean tries to turn his head. Dean is gasping his name, tears brimming in his eyes. He can’t hold back anymore. He comes, hard, blood roaring like thunder and the edges of his consciousness feeling dim. It’s almost painful in the best way when the nerves on his spine dance and the thick ribbons of release, unlike anything he’s ever felt, mess the bed beneath them.

 

“CAS!”

 

The Angel’s grace surges at the intensity of Dean’s emotion and voice, the lights flickering and wings appearing around them. Castiel is chanting, the only word inside his mind as he keeps moving inside of him, pounding into mercilessly.

 

“Dean, Dean, Dean.” It’s his favorite word, the only word he really needs to know because it is love, it is everything and this is all he wants to do, all he feels. He was made for Dean, just Dean.

 

Tears roll down Dean’s face as he quakes beneath him, “I love you, love you, Cas, love you--it’s okay--it’s okay. Come on, come on.”

 

There’s a ringing, a noise that hurts before Dean hears it, loud, powerful and yet also beside him, in his ear just like always. Both voices are screaming his name when they topple into the mattress, spent. They lay in the dark, sprawled awkwardly when Cas pulls out and Dean feels it all when he rolls over. Grace relieves him of his bindings, Cas’ eyes closed but glowing--the air in the room is charged like an electrical storm.  Dean’s ears are ringing before Cas thumbs his cheek.

 

“I love you,” he says, voice ruined and harsh. Dean erupts into laughter, something soft and rumbling from his chest. He feels so many things all at once.

 

“I love you, too...Merry Christmas, Cas. Best present ever.” They curl together, Dean pulling the blankets up and closing them off inside their own little world.

 

“Merry Christmas, Dean.” There’s another moment of giggles, both content to just lay there breathing, and soaking one another in. After a while the familiar wave of warmth washes over the younger male and the ache subsides in his legs and back. He chuckles when Castiel leaves the bruises on his hips from his fingers and a deep hickey on his shoulder, just visible as he glances down when the eyes he loves so much glow their brilliant hue.

 

Dean can’t remember the last time he was this happy, this calm and blissful.

 

“You need a safe word,” Dean says sometime later, Cas humming into his hair almost sleepy somehow.

 

“Why is that?” he asks huskily, floating between Dean’s voice and something calm.

 

“Ever heard of Ukrainian Christmas? I think you need your own 12 days of Christmas cheer, Winchester style,” Dean growls, low and Castiel shivers, “Only mine don’t have any hurdles to overcome…and there's a handy reference sheet for gift ideas.”

  
Day Twelve was about rewards, and Castiel can’t wait for more of them as the New Year and their new path arrives, together.


End file.
